


Three Kings: Ravus

by pheonixgate1



Series: Nos Gerere [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Addendum to a Series, Ardyn Not Even Trying to Be Better, BAMF!Talcott, MUST READ FIRST: Nos Gerere, Ravus Being Ravus, The Fantastic Frenemy Voyage, Traumatized Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheonixgate1/pseuds/pheonixgate1
Summary: Better the enemy you know.
Series: Nos Gerere [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635643
Kudos: 7





	Three Kings: Ravus

It has been a long, arduous—sometimes _ridiculous_ journey, but it is thankfully nearly over.

The car they have is not a convertible, but even through the vents he can smell the sea as they make their way to Cape Caem. The last stop before a short sail will take them to Altissa. His home.

He did not think he would be so drawn to it. He’d spent so much time away, drifting from place to place—wherever the Empire commanded that he assumed the concept of home would carry little meaning to him now. But something in him aches to see the water stretching out to the horizon. To taste the salt in the air. To feel the swells beneath his feet.

But most of all, to get away from these _Lucians_.

The car has become its own sovereign nation where each has staked a claim. The boy holds the seat of power as their primary driver; occasionally switching with Noctis during long stretches. He is courteous enough, but fiercely loyal to both the current King and the former. A shame but not unsurprising, considering he was basically born into stewardship. Ravus had not been ignorant to the incident which had taken the life of his grandfather—life-long retainer to the Amicitia family. An unarmed, elderly man with children in his care.

He had rolled his eyes at the lie his subordinate had spun and made sure the man knew just how highly he thought of his skills at _self-defense_. For no gun or knife would have pierced his armor, even from the back1. It was designed that way for a reason; murder being a time-honored form of promotion in the Imperial Army.

In that respect, Ulldor had been a true product of Niflheim. Dying on his sword was not the end the man deserved, but Ravus hadn’t had the time or the capacity to deliver a death worthy of such an arrogant sadistic _pig_.

The former King of Light has taken up residence in the back seat with him, when he isn’t driving. His loyalty to the new King is a given, but it is surprisingly not to the crown but rather, the man. Scientia is _family_ ; that had been made obvious when he’d offered to take his life off the table in the deal between he and the Draconian. His distress then had been genuine, as had his offer; though he suspects he’d have done the same for any of his entourage—even the clone.

He still remembers the broken boy whom his mother had given her all to heal. The same boy who had soaked up his sister’s simple affection like the sun; who had looked at him and his family with open awe.

Remembers his slim, pale arm reaching out to him from his father’s hold as the other fled—his pleas for him to stop ignored, just like Ravus’ own.

His feelings for Noctis are… complicated. For a long time, his hatred for Regis made him hate Noctis by extension. The whole of Lucis even. It was only much later that he acknowledged his loathing had no real direction, for it stemmed from circumstances that were beyond anyone’s control. Especially his.

Like how his blood contained the power of Oracles yet to his prayers, the gods were deaf. One of their own had even attended his sister, but lifted not a single finger in her defense in the end. All they had cared about was their prophecy—their champion. Not the line that had restored and protected the people; that had served as the last bastion to the ever-encroaching darkness.

His family had been fodder—a stepping-stone for the great lie perpetuated by the very gods who supposedly favored them. It is this that keeps the hate smoldering within. -But it’s not for Noctis. Not anymore.

Then there was _him_.

Before he can even begin to touch on the immense mountain of loathing he has for the former Chancellor, he notices the car is decelerating. The cab is silent, save for Talcott who is giving monosyllabic responses to the phone at his ear. Noctis is leaning into the space between seats, likely trying to follow the one-sided conversation and even the Accursed is attentive; having put down his reading in favor of whatever drama is unfolding.

They eventually find a place to safely pull over and they slow to a stop.

“Understood.”

The King’s Aide ends the call; letting out a quiet breath as he lowers the phone. He turns; flitting his gaze over each passenger before resting on Noctis.

“We have a situation.”

Quietly, he explains the details; a young couple, recently come to Insomnia had shown an interest in adopting the two girls from Argentum’s menagerie. As wards of the King, naturally there was protocol to follow and after a handful interviews with the either the King himself or a trusted member of staff present, the girls were allowed some time with the hopeful couple with only a member of the Crownsguard in attendance.

This turned out to be a mistake as they promptly eluded their Crown-issued chaperone and disappeared—taking the girls with them.

“This is officially a kidnapping. They’re not responding to any of the contact numbers they gave and they apparently took a supply truck as their getaway car. -Thankfully someone noticed it gone right away or they’d still be looking around in the city.”

Ravus frowns.

“What are they expecting us to do about it? We’re hundreds of miles away from the scene. If they managed to slip past the Checkpoint, they could literally be _anywhere_. By the time we back track close enough to where they might have gone, they’ll likely have left already. Getting involved would be pointless.”

Talcott levels a withering look at him.

“To you maybe, but you’re forgetting something—two things actually, that make that argument invalid; the first and most important being that one of us can teleport.”

Three sets of eyes land on the Accursed who blinks at the sudden scrutiny before sighing.

“You should know that the largest item I’ve ever teleported with is the Crystal. I’ve never tried to teleport a car. Let alone one with _passengers_.”

At this Noctis pipes up.

“Actually, you’ve never _instant-warped_ with a car. If you think of it like that, it’s easier to get your head around. -At least it was for me.”

At the creeping revelation that they could have potentially bypassed this whole idiotic trip, Ravus _snarls_.

“If we could have traveled here instantly, then what was the point of this miserable road trip? Why suffer each other’s company this long? I’d expect this sort of masochism from _him_ -“ At this he juts his chin out at the so-called doctor, who merely raises a brow at his accusations. “-but not from either of you.”

Noctis frowns at the admonishment.

“That’s not how it works. You can’t instant-warp to a place you’ve never been. Especially if you don’t know _how_. You realize he’s second-gen, right? He doesn’t have two thousand years of documented experimentation to draw on. He’s literally the second guy to have the power, _ever_.”

The former Chancellor purses his lips like he might have something to add but ultimately says nothing. Ravus is far from mollified but he supposes the logic is sound. It is obvious in the awkward way Scientia wields the same power that there is a measure of skill involved that has nothing to do with inheritance.

Talcott interjects before it can become a debate.

“In any case, thing number two is, you’re not the boss of me. -None of you are. The King is the one who gets to decide whether our involvement is a wasted effort or not and right now? He’s wigging out _for real_.” He turns in his seat, pinning him with a stare. “Your objections are noted, but considering you called those girls the c-word two seconds after meeting them well... -Sorry if I don’t take your argument seriously. Your bias is obvious.”

He looks at the younger man, aghast. He has never once in his entire _life_ referred to a woman in the way the younger man is implying, let alone a _child_ but before he can form words for his defense, Noctis clarifies.

“He means clones. You called them clones. That’s… even if it’s the truth, it’s probably not something they need to hear. Let alone, understand.”

Talcott puts the car in gear with a yank.

“They’re just _kids_. Scared, possibly endangered kids and we’re getting them _back_.” He levels a considering look to the rearview mirror. “What did you think I meant, anyway? Going by your face it had to be pretty bad.”

Noctis’ wide-eyed look of horror would be comical if it didn’t come from fear of Shield-induced homicide. There’s no need to worry, however. Ravus has no intention of enlightening the youngest Amicitia, though certainly not out of fear of the eldest’s wrath.

“I don’t say that word. It’s only due to my time spent among the crass Imperial ranks that I even _know_ it. Get your answers elsewhere. I refuse to spread such _filth_.”

This makes the other frown, but he doesn’t press. Though the misunderstanding grates at him, Ravus doesn’t apologize for calling the girls what they are. -Or Argentum for that matter. It’s not meant to be a slur. Just a statement of _fact_.

In any case, it changes nothing. Once again, he is swept up in their absurd machinations; although this time at least, the cause is a worthy one.

*

It takes the Accursed three tries to transport them to the area Talcott and Noctis triangulated using the mileage and route data they’d been sent; the final try giving him a massive nosebleed. There is a wad of bloody napkins in his hand, the only thing they had available at the moment, and they look to be nearing full capacity.

Apparently, the expenditure had exhausted the great wellspring that was his magical energy and so he had to resort to treating it the old-fashioned way; with his head tilted back and a throat full of blood.

Both Talcott and Noctis were, between their sleuthing, casting the occasional concerned glance at the older man. Ravus, while not exactly reveling in the other’s misfortune (as much as he mourned the lack of capacity) he was at least glad the other man was capable of injury. It was grossly unfair that he was still _breathing_ , let alone practically immortal, _again_ ; with an even more god-like power at his disposal. The fact that he could still bleed was comforting—even if it was potentially inconvenient at the moment.

“See anything yet?”

In lieu of binoculars, both were using the camera in their phones to zoom in on various areas around them. Noctis’ own device might be over ten years old, but with the world in the shape it was in, none better had been made since.

The once King of Light makes a disgruntled sound.

“Nothing. And it’s going to get dark soon. -We’ve got to get a hit in the next hour or so, or we’re going to lose the window.”

Ravus, having no such device, has been passing the time by staring a hole in the former Chancellor’s head; in hopes it too would spew forth and bleed. No such thing happens of course, but the lack of other distractions makes him pick up the faint vibrations of a low flying ship. He can tell by the familiar hum that it’s a drop-ship. The other man must feel it too, because he stirs enough to crack an eye at the dusk-stained sky; his voice oddly flat as he mutters.

“Above us.”

As they watch, the small craft comes into view; flying progressively lower until it finally lands a short distance away. Ravus turns to the young Aide, who has been communicating with various parties since they’d been roped into this hopeless endeavor.

“We need to get to that landing site _now_. -Don’t bother calling it in, just go.”

Surprisingly the young man complies instantly and they make it just in time to see the would-be parents attempt to hand over the struggling terrified girls to a group of waiting MT’s. Ravus doesn’t have time to question why they are still functioning and instead moves to dispatch them while Talcott and Noctis presumably handle the rest.

It takes a horrifying shriek to call him away from the now-sparking pile of Magitek. The two girls are huddled next to the car with a white-faced Noctis whose hands are shaking as he tries to wrangle something on his phone. They are clutching each other so close that you can hardly tell there’s two of them. He watches as the younger man tries to get their attention, but they just burrow into each other and make gut-wrenching cries of fear.

He notes that the Doctor is not in attendance. Nor are the kidnappers. He sidles up to Talcott who is standing a ways off; splitting his focus between looking around warily and furiously tapping messages into his phone.

“Why is Noctis with them? Wouldn’t it be better if it were you? -Where’s the Chancellor?”

Talcott frowns as his concentration is split further by his questioning.

“Noct’s trying to get Prompto to Face-Time but I don’t think he’s answering. I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s en route. I have about eight people that I have to answer to right now who are all screaming for a status update and he volunteered. They’re fine anyway—just scared.”

He looks over to the car where Noctis is still trying to get them to look at his phone; at pictures of Prompto, most likely. He flinches every time they make their horrible guttural cries.

They both wince at the sound. Talcott tilts his head sharply, indicating a point over his shoulder.

“Ardyn is with the other two. Noct and I both went for the girls so I guess they tried to make a break for it. I didn’t see what he did but I’m pretty sure he warped even though he’s running on fumes. I don’t want to be in their shoes right now. He looks like death warmed over—probably feels like it too.”

Ravus peers through the scrub to where the Aide indicated and sees a taller silhouette standing over two smaller huddled ones. The setting sun makes it impossible to see details, but he doesn’t hear any noise coming from there so he’s not sure what’s going on. Probably nothing good.

“I should yell at him to leave something for us to question, but honestly I don’t even care.” He looks up from his phone long enough to look him in the eye. “Sorry for getting on your case earlier. We would have had a lot more trouble if you hadn’t been there so, thanks for that.”

He shrugs off the other’s gratitude. It’s not like he had a _choice_. It was either help, or let this infernal trip drag on even longer and Ravus is so very done with _all of it_.

*

It’s twilight before they hear the hum of another drop-ship.

Three figures come skidding off the ramp before it even touches down. The King, the Shield and the eldest clone meet the ground at a run before stopping at the car. Talcott had eventually herded the sniffling girls into the vehicle while the rest of them waited outside. Once they see their primary caretakers have arrived, they clamour inside until the King throws wide the doors and they fling themselves into his arms, keening and sobbing.

All three men take a few moments to comfort them. Petting their hair, speaking words of reassurance and reinforcing it with awkward signing. Eventually Prompto disengages to see to Noctis who sits on the ground with his arms around his knees; still shaken by the children’s abject fear of him.

Ravus stands a few paces from the group, keeping his distance. He has no desire to participate in the unfolding spectacle. The Accursed, returned from his vigil over the fugitives and thus far keeping the car between them, shuffles over. He weathers the heat of his glare and holds out a small sheaf of paper.

“They had this. I dare not show it to the King, lest the boy see it. -The girls as well, though I think they may be too far removed from the original Program for it to matter.”

Hating the fact that they are interacting at all but still curious as to the circumstances which brought them here, he takes the small flier. His eyes widen at the contents.

_Return Our Stolen Children!_ it proclaims. He skims the paper which seems to be some strange form of propaganda concerning Besithia’s horde of unclaimed duplicates. Under the blurb of terribly convoluted backstory of how the clones came to be, there is an eye and hair color chart along with general height, weight and proportion stats. There is also a promise of reward for any information concerning these… stolen children but no further elaboration as to what that entails.

The most disturbing thing, however, is the small square code located innocuously on the bottom corner of the page. It is a Command Code, used to give orders to MT’s. Fairly obvious to anyone who has ever worked with or around Magitek Troopers, this code could potentially order any MT who sees it to go on a rampage; killing all in its path. Or it could be some menial task. Without having the proper device to read the code, no one could be sure save for whoever created it in the first place.

He frowns. The MT’s he’d fought had not struck back, though he had pressed them hard. He’s not sure what that means, but for them to be operating under some unknown’s direction is certainly not good, benign or no.

Ravus hands the paper back to the other man.

“The King must know of this—but not now. Once we reach Altissa, we can send it in an official attaché. That should keep Argentum from reading it over his shoulder.”

He looks over to where said blond is hunkered down next to Noctis, whose color is a little better at least. He seems to be teaching him some of the signs the children use to communicate. The so-called Doctor hums as he takes the paper back and makes it disappear somewhere in the confines of his coat.

“Agreed. This is quite the quandary. I had hoped the world had no surprises left, but alas it is not to be.”

He doesn’t sound too upset about that. Ravus doesn’t bother answering because talking to the other still feels like an affront to everything he’s ever stood for. Eventually his silence prompts the other to leave, making his way toward the King for what will likely be a status report—sans mysterious flier.

Whatever remnant of the Empire this turns out to be, he will make sure it does not touch his country. He sacrificed it once for the sake of his Sister but this time Tenebrae will not be subjected to any more Imperial conspiracies—he owes the people that much. And if it requires him to once again suffer the company of treacherous Lucians, well…

He looks once more to the fallen Prince, who catches his gaze before turning his attention back to his friend.

Better the enemy you know.

THE END

1In case no one remembers, the Empire tried to say that Jared Hester had attempted to attack Ulldor from behind and he’d reacted in self-defense. I assume with a weapon of some kind because wtf otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> A taste of things to come. ;)


End file.
